


treaded paths

by rvd



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rvd/pseuds/rvd
Summary: Three days out from Traba, they were passed by a small cart led by a stocky mule. Costis and Kamet kept their faces averted from the road, a practiced action. The cart stalled. Costis willed it to move on. The cart stopped.





	treaded paths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adspexi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adspexi/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! 
> 
> A note on chronology: this is set between chapters four and five of Thick as Thieves.

Three days out from Traba, they were passed by a small cart led by a stocky mule. Costis and Kamet kept their faces averted from the road, a practiced action. The cart stalled. Costis willed it to move on. The cart stopped.

There was chatter in an unfamiliar language, then in Mede, “Where are you two heading? Could we give you a ride?”

Costis finally looked their direction. Sitting at the front of the cart was a man his cousin Eneas’s age holding the mule’s lead. Beside him was his wife, and in the back of the cart were two young children with curious faces sitting on stacked high trunks. They all shared the light hair and eyes of the northern countries. By their coloring, Costis guessed they were from Braels, by their Mede, he guessed they had lived in the Empire for several years.

“We are comfortable on foot, thank you,” Kamet said.

The couple exchanged a meaningful look between themselves. Costis tensed to grab Kamet and run. Let the Braelings say what they would to the Namreen, Costis would not attack a family.

“We are heading to Traba,” the woman said. She paused, and said carefully, “There is safety in numbers.”

Costis took a closer look at their cart. There were a number of trunks stacked tightly in the back, more than a simple trip to a neighboring city would necessitate. A wealthier family would hire a set of guards to escort them to a new city, but it was clear this family was moving precisely because they didn’t have that type of wealth.

Costis didn’t see any large furniture. If the family left it behind to give the impression they were carrying less than their home on their backs, they were smart to do so. Yet despite their attempts at subtlety, Costis was sure that they would be easily recognized by bandits and robbers along their journey. He frowned.

“You can’t be considering it,” Kamet hissed in Attolian.

“Look at them,” Costis said in the same language. “They’ll be killed by bandits at the first opportunity, or they’ll be robbed of everything they have.”

“Must we die with them?” Kamet muttered.

“You’ve seen what I can do with this sword,” Costis replied. In slow Mede he said to the family, “We are going there as well. We would be glad for your hospitality.”

Kamet followed him, cursing idiotic barbarians under his breath.

 

There was enough room on the jockey bench for Kamet to join the married couple but not Costis; there was not enough room for Costis to sit up front even without Kamet. With a shared look, Costis and Kamet chose to sit in the back with the children, where they would be a small bit more protected from watching eyes. If anyone passed by, they would be able to slouch down below the sides of the cart and avoid any potential rumors.

The cart was heavy and the loud sounds it made as the wheels fell in and out of the potted holes in the road overpowered any attempt at conversation.

Kamet managed to fall asleep on Costis’s shoulder despite the incessant bouncing of the cart, while the Braeling children played some sort of complicated clapping game. Costis kept an alert eye on the surrounding farmland and the expanse of road in both directions.

Close to sunset, the husband began pulling pulling the cart to the side of the road to stop for the night. Costis leaned forward and pointed out a hill further along the road that would hide the cart from the road in the night.

Kamet came awake as the cart pulled off the road. He regained his wits slowly and glared at Costis, blaming him for falling asleep or his unceremonious wake up call Costis didn’t know.

Costis helped unpack the cart for the night at the wife’s direction. Evidently one of the heavy trunks was filled with rations and a cooking pot. A warm meal of anything but caggi was appealing.

He carried the trunk to where the husband was starting the cooking fire with Kamet’s dubious help. “We will want to put that out before full dark,” Costis warned.

The couple nodded. Soon their makeshift camp was awash with the smell of the Braeling dish the wife was making and the Mede spices she used.

“What sends you to Traba?” the wife asked. “Is it for your master?”

Costis tensed. She must have seen the collar around Kamet’s neck. She had sharper eyes than either of them had thought. He stayed silent and let Kamet take the lead. Kamet frequently told him he was a poor liar. He was better at coming up with these stories than Costis was.

Easily, Kamet explained that he was the majordomo of a small nearby estate and Costis was the lover of the mistress of the house. They left with permission to procure a rare set of bowls from a traveling artisan who would be in Traba for the next month.

The Braeling couple accepted that easily, and in turn the husband explained that they were heading to Traba looking for more consistent work and to join his wife’s family in the city.  

During this explanation, chipped but otherwise sturdy bowls were procured from the rations trunk, and the thick stew was separated out.

Costis was served first but he passed his bowl to Kamet. The husband nodded, satisfied, when Costis did so and gave him the second serving directly. Costis nudged Kamet’s shoulder. “Not caggi,” he said.

“They are safe from your tyranny for one night,” Kamet said. Costis laughed and clapped him on the back.

“It is good you see your little friend as your equal,” the husband said. Costis’s brow furrowed, and he bit his tongue on insisting Kamet was his equal. Kamet would not forgive him for losing the thread of the lie. “Your slave,” he said.

“Your lover,” the wife clarified. Startled, Costis realized the couple’s Mede wasn’t as good as he or Kamet had assumed.

In retrospect it was an easy mistake to make. Costis remembered the difficulty he had learning Mede sentence structure, which seemed backwards to his Attolian mind. That Kamet used the gender neutral term for “master of the house” that was in fashion in the capital must have confused his explanation even further.

Kamet gave Costis a desperate look. Costis shrugged sympathetically. Not much to do now but stick to the story.

“Did you meet at your family’s estate?” asked the wife.

Kamet assented and added to the fiction: the mistress of the house had a soft spot of Costis, her youngest son, and was indulgent to his fancies. Kamet, of course, noticed the son of the house first.

Costis tried to hide a frown but it was difficult. Costis noticed Kamet a long time before Kamet knew his name, before Costis even knew his. Kamet’s proud profile and sharp posture, oddly reminiscent of his Queen, attracted his eye long before the King told Costis why he had been sent to Ianna-Ir.

Costis took his time eating his stew and let Kamet spin his stories without Costis’s interruption.

One of the children tugged at Costis’s sleeve, and Costis turned his attention to the younger of the two.

“Mama says you’re a foreigner like us but not like us,” the girl said. Her Mede was better than her parents’, and admittedly better than Costis’s. “Does that mean you know any stories? I’m bored of Papa’s.”

Costis scratched his chin. “Do you know Attolian?” he hazarded.

Her face fell. “No!” She frowned, but seemed curious. “Is that where you’re from? Attolian?”

“Attolia,” Costis corrected. “Yes.”

“Do you have any stories you can tell in Mede?” the girl complained.

“Ah,” Costis said. “Well…” He looked to Kamet beside him and began telling the story of how Immakuk and Ennikar stole Anet’s Chariot as Kamet told it to him. Costis tried, he truly did, but he floundered through it.

_The spring floods came_  
_in the Wise Years of Immakuk_  
_The spring floods came_  
_and did not recede_  
_The spring floods came_  
_destroyed fields_  
_destroyed homes_  
_The spring floods came_  
_drowned livestock_ _  
_ _drowned people_

Kamet coughed. Costis had low hopes the cough did not hide a laugh.

_The elders of Ianna-Ir_  
_gave counsel to Immakuk_  
_the spring floods came_  
_and will soon flood Ianna-Ir_  
_Said his people, ‘Wise Immakuk_  
_no longer a young man_  
_no longer the hero_  
_no longer able to help us’_  
_Said his people, ‘Old Immakuk_  
_invited the god Nuri in_  
_killed Terrifying Unse-Sek_  
_saved Strong Ennikar from death_ _  
_ _cannot save us’_

_Immakuk sought Ennikar_  
_ruled with his friend_ _at his side_  
_sought his wisdom_  
_Said Immakuk to Ennikar,_  
_‘The spring floods came_  
_and did not recede._  
_What is there for Old Immakuk to do?’_  
_Said Ennikar to Immakuk,_  
_‘Wise Immakuk,_  
_invited the god Nuri in_  
_killed Terrifying Unse-Sek_  
_saved Brave Ennikar from death_ _  
_ _is not too old to save Ianna-Ir’_

_Brave Immakuk and Wise Ennikar_ _  
_ _journeyed together to Anet’s home_

“You forgot a stanza,” said Kamet. “It begins, ‘The spring floods flowed from the gates of heaven…’”

“Of course,” Costis said, “I have it, I have it.”

_The spring floods flowed_  
_from the gates of heaven_ _  
_ _out of the reach of mortal men_

_Brave Immakuk and Wise Ennikar_  
_journeyed together to Anet’s home_  
_Anet the sun god refused to hear their pleas_  
_would not lend Immakuk his chariot_  
_not for all the riches in his palace in Ianna-Ir_ _  
_ _not to spare the suffering of mortal men_

_Wise Immakuk and Brave Ennikar_  
_journeyed together on Anet’s stolen Chariot_  
_Flew together to the gates of heaven_  
_stopped the spring floods_ _  
_ _saved Ianna-Ir_

_The spring floods receded_  
_thanks to Brave and Noble Immakuk and Ennikar_  
_are never again so severe_  
_Noble and Brave Immakuk and Ennikar_  
_remain at heaven’s gates_ _  
_ _together protecting Ianna-Ir_

There was silence when he finished. Costis coughed and said, “That was the end.”

Kamet clapped politely, and Costis glared at him. Kamet helpfully interjected whenever Costis got things _too_ wrong, but he was perfectly content to let Costis mess up the verses and make a fool of himself. Costis suspected he was amused, but Kamet had a good poker face.

The Braeling girl was visibly unimpressed by him. She said, “You didn’t even explain how they stole the chariot. That was the most exciting thing!”  

“This is an old story,” Kamet explained. “It was written down on tablets and the tablet containing that part of the story is broken and unreadable.”

The Braeling girl clearly wished her parents had called over more exciting traveling companions.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Kamet said that night, long after the fire had died out. The Braeling couple set out a sleeping mat for them pointedly a bit removed from the rest of the group. It was tight, but it was better than sleeping on the ground and Kamet’s warmth was welcome in the cool night.

“I knew you were laughing,” Costis accused without heat.

“A little,” Kamet said. “If I tell it again, will you remember?”

“Yes. Perhaps next time I won’t embarrass myself in front of a child,” Costis said, and fell asleep to dreams of him and Kamet stealing a god’s chariot.


End file.
